Transport Medium
by Malebron
Summary: It's Halloween 1981. Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy are stranded on Aviemore Railway station, wands and illegal Time-Turner destroyed. They have to get to Godric's Hollow, but how are they going to do that? The Knight Bus, obviously. But as you'd expect, things aren't quite that simple. A Cursed Child fic.


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I would like to say all the characters you recognise belong to JK Rowling. But honestly, I'm not so sure about that any more. Perhaps they belong to Jack Thorne now.

Betaed by the amazing **Cordelia McGonagall.** All mistakes are mine.

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* * *

 **Transport Medium**

 _Aviemore Railway Station: October 30_ _th_ _, 1981. Evening._

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With barely contained agitation, Albus watched the station master retreat along the platform. "We've got to get to Godric's Hollow!"

"Have we?" said Scorpius.

"Yes!" Albus was adamant. "We've got to get there _now_! It's _urgent_!"

"Righty-oh," said Scorpius, detecting a note of panic. He performed an unhurried three hundred and sixty degree turn on the spot, observing the dark and almost deserted railway station. "Godric's Hollow must be, what?" He paused. "Five hundred miles away? And we haven't got wands. How are we going to manage that?"

"Have you got any money?" said Albus rummaging under his robes. "I've got-" He peered at his palm. "Twelve Sickles and a Knut."

"Of course I've got money," said Scorpius. "I am a Malfoy." He emptied his pocket. "Two Galleons and three Sickles."

"I'm sure that's enough," said Albus. "We can get the Knight Bus."

"But . . . don't you need a wand for that?"

"I hope not. I think you just have to put out your wand _hand."_

"Oh, that's cool!" said Scorpius in delight. "Have you been on it before?"

"Yeah. When I was a baby. Can't remember it though."

"Still cool," said Scorpius again, then added with some regret, "Malfoys don't use the Knight Bus. Father says it's not the Done Thing."

"Well this Malfoy's going to have to use it. Come on," said Albus, "let's get out on to the road. This way." He gestured towards the station entrance and strode off. Scorpius followed.

.

Outside the station, the two of them walked through an empty car park and out on to an equally empty road. The wind was cold and gusty and threw occasional flurries of sleety rain at them. Scorpius pulled his robes up under his chin.

"This must be the right place," Albus said, pausing on the pavement beside a metal post under a dull orange street light. He indicated a rectangular _Bus Stop_ sign at the top of the post. Confidently, he thrust his hand up into the air. "This should work. Dad told me what to do."

"Oh really?" Scorpius was impressed. In the air above Albus's hand something pale appeared against the murky night sky.

"What's that?" said Scorpius. "Oh, it's writing! What does it say?" He squinted up at the text that quivered above Albus's outstretched fingers. _"Due to recent cost-cutting measures,"_ he read aloud, " _this service is no longer operational during term-time. Your nearest pick-up point is Inverness._ Oh dear."

"You're kidding!" Albus dropped his hand to his side and groaned. "Just our luck. What in buggeration are we going to do now?"

"Erm . . ." Scorpius considered for a moment. "I suppose we have to get to Inverness. How far do you think it is?"

"There's a road sign over there." Albus pointed to an illuminated green and yellow board further along the road. "Let's go and see."

. . .

 _Inverness 30.6 miles_ said the sign. _Aberdeen 92.9 miles._

Albus shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robes and hunched his shoulders. "This really is a Merlinforsaken place isn't it?"

"Don't give up. Look." Scorpius tapped his shoulder. "Something's coming along the road. Is that a Mugglecar?" He could not help a note of excitement creeping into his voice. "Isn't this fascinating?" He waved hopefully at the approaching headlights and the car pulled up beside them. "I like that reflective stripe!"

"Bloody hell," said Albus, "I'm pretty sure this is a pleececar."

"What's a pleececar?"

"Bad news, that's what. I think we should run away."

"Where to? Back to Hogwarts?"

"Fair point," conceded Albus with a scowl.

The car door opened and a man in a dark uniform climbed out, pulling on a peaked cap. "Now then, laddies. PC Alec Galbraith, Highlands and Islands Police. Can I be of any assistance?"

"Oh yes, thank you," said Scorpius, assuming a well-practised, respectful, speaking-to-adults manner. "We were hoping to get to Inverness. To catch a bus."

"Inverness? Tae catch a bus? Where are y' parents?"

"They're waiting for us," said Albus. "In Inverness. We missed the train, you see."

"Och is that so? I think ye'd better come along wi' me then."

"Will you take us to the bus stop? At Inverness?" asked Scorpius.

"Aye, mebbe." PC Galbraith looked them up and down. "That's some fancy attire you're sportin'. Ye goin' trick-or-treatin'? Ye ken you're a day early?" He laughed at his own joke. "Newfangled American ideas. Mind, there isnae much trick-or-treatin' around these parts. Not much of anythin' off-season. Come on, get in the car."

He opened the rear door and waited while Albus and Scorpius climbed inside, then slammed it shut and climbed back into the driver's seat. As the car pulled away, he spoke in an undertone into a black thing that replied with an incomprehensible spitting noise.

"My grandad would be so jealous," said Albus in a low voice. "He's always wanted to go in a pleececar!"

The boys slipped gradually into a soporific torpor, soothed by the warmth and the steady purring of the engine. Scorpius leaned his head against the window watching what he could of the passing night-time landscape and trying without success to decipher the sounds that crackled through the device in the front. By the time the car stopped outside a large building some time later, he and Albus were half-asleep.

PC Galbraith opened the door, letting in an ugly blast of cold wind. "Out ye get lads. Into the station wi' ye." He waved them through a door at the front of the shadowy edifice. "I want tae take some details." He noticed Albus's eyes searching for an escape route. "Dinna think aboot it, laddie. The last bus was an hour an' a half ago. There's nowt till mornin'. But I'll no' see ye oan the street. 'Tis a braw nicht tonicht."

Inside the station, he waved the boys to a bench opposite a broad reception desk. "Dinna move till I get back," he instructed them, and vanished into another room.

"Come on!" Albus jumped to his feet and tugged at Scorpius's robes.

A door snapped open and PC Galbraith wagged a stern finger. "I'm watchin ye!"

Chastened, Albus sank back on to the bench looking gloomy.

Less than a minute later, PC Galbraith returned with two flimsy cups. "This is the best ye'll get the noo; it's oot ae'a machine. It's hot, though I canna say it's much else goin' for it. I might hae –," he opened a drawer at the bottom of the desk, took out a tin and popped the lid open. "Aye ye're in luck." He handed a pale biscuit to each of them then sat himself down at the broad desk, pulled a pile of papers towards him and started writing. Through a door behind the constable, Scorpius could see another uniformed man talking to – what was that thing again? A _tellingfone,_ that was it.

"What's a braw nicked to-nicked?" he whispered into Albus's ear.

"Dunno," Albus whispered back. "Think he means it's a cold night. But we can't stay in here! We need to get out and hail the Knight Bus!"

"I'm sure he'll stop us if we try," answered Scorpius. "In any case, if we can get the Knight Bus first thing in the morning, we should still be at Godric's Hollow in time."

PC Galbraith broke into their discussion. "Names and addresses boys, if ye don't mind."

"Oh!" Scorpius thought on his feet. "Harbottle. I'm Arthur and this is . . . Albert." His mind went blank.

Albus must have sensed his bafflement, and took over. "Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Surrey! Ye're a long way from home. Are ye on holiday?"

Scorpius nodded eagerly but Albus looked anxious. "Are you locking us up?" he demanded. "We haven't done anything wrong!"

"Dinna be sae daft, son." The officer was unperturbed. "Ye can go as soon as y' parent or guardian arrives t' collect ye. Or when it's light, whiche'er comes first. But if ye think I'm goin tae put ye oot intae the streets the nicht, ye can think again. Follow me."

He led the two boys to a small grey room at the end of a short grey corridor and handed them each a rough grey blanket. "Ye've the place tae yersels. It's no' the Ritz, but it's better than a bench in the bus station. I willnae be lockin' ye in, but ye'll no get awa' wi'out me seein'." He gestured back to where they had come in past the reception desk.

The bare room was dimly illuminated by a cold light from the corridor and on each side was a narrow bunk. In silence, Scorpius and Albus exchanged glances, shrugged and took a bunk each. They sat facing each other.

"Well," said Albus eventually, shaking out his blanket. "Might as well get some shut-eye." He lay down, pulled the cover over himself, and turned his face to the wall.

"Yeah. Might as well." The room was warm and the scratchy blanket PC Galbraith had provided was not strictly necessary, but still Scorpius wrapped it around himself for comfort and stared into the gloom.

"Albus," he murmured after a time, but the only reply was a faint snore.

He twisted from one side to the other, trying to make himself comfortable on the hard bunk, and in an attempt to distract himself, focused his mind on the elusive Rose Granger-Weasley and pondered. Was the girl truly his goal or was it the challenge that motivated him? Was she the obstacle to be overcome, rather than the prize? And what would he do with that prize if he won it? Was marriage always the ultimate reward? Did it _have_ to be? For his parents it had been, he guessed. But for him? He was not at all sure. He wished he could ask his mother what she thought.

He tried to recall her face. His mother, Astoria, who had died as she had lived, with such all-encompassing dignity and grace that there had been no space left for messy and uncontained grief. He had no difficulty in conjuring her pale and delicate features but found he had already forgotten what her voice was like. _I miss you, Mother,_ he mouthed, and pictured her gentle smile.

Certain he would be unable to sleep and resentful of Albus's gentle breathing a couple of feet away, Scorpius was surprised when he opened his eyes to daylight and the sight of PC Galbraith brandishing a plate and two large, steaming mugs.

"Tea and toast, lads." He presented them with a greasy and rather rubbery yellow material that bore little resemblance to the crisp, buttery sort of toast they were familiar with. "Ye dinna seem tae be missin' pairsons and I'm aboot tae finish ma shift, so I'll be letting ye go fer yer bus."

"Oh, thank you, Mr Pleeceman," said Albus gratefully.

"Yes, indeed! Thank you sir, we really are most awfully appreciative," said Scorpius, which caused the man to raise an eyebrow.

. . .

The officer pushed open the glass front door of the station and held it for them. "Bus stop's ower yon." He pointed to a structure on the opposite side of the road. "Enjoy the rest o' yer adventure." He winked at them and went back inside, leaving Scorpius and Albus shivering on the pavement.

"Everything is grey," remarked Scorpius as they crossed the road. "Have you noticed? It was all grey inside and it's all grey outside too. Muggles must like grey."

"I don't think all of them do," said Albus. "But they seem to like it here."

They reached the bus stop and Albus raised his arm. Once again faint lines of text wobbled overhead. "Oh no! What does it say this time?"

"It's all right," said Scorpius. "It says, _Request accepted. Estimated arrival time, two minutes."_

"Thank Merlin for that!" said Albus. "You'd better put your hood up before it arrives."

"Why?"

"You need to cover your daft blond hair. You look like a Malfoy."

"But I am a Malfoy. And my hair's not daft, it's distinctive."

"Well, whatever. But Malfoys don't go on the Knight Bus, do they?"

"I see what you mean." Scorpius pulled his hood forward. "Will that do?"

Without warning, there was a screech of brakes and a flash of bright purple, The front of a huge vehicle mounted the pavement and thundered towards them. "Scorp!" Albus grabbed his arm and shoved him back hard against the side of the bus shelter. A door flew open with a thud.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" A lanky man with a purple peaked cap was waving them in. "Step aboard, No dithering! I'm your conductor today. Name's Ernie. Destination?"

"Oh." Albus was panting as he pushed Scorpius up the step ahead of him. "Godric's Hollow please."

"Right you are. Standard or Premium?"

"Pardon?"

"Standard or Premium? Standard is sixteen Sickles each. Premium is three Galleons. Cuts the journey time in half."

"Oh, er, Standard please. We don't have six Galleons."

"Standard it is then. Three hours to Godric's Hollow. You can stay on this deck for now." Ernie indicated a tatty velvet two-seat sofa on castors. "But you'll have to go upstairs later."

. . .

"Whoa!" Albus cried as the bus took off with a loud _bang_ and a jerk. The sofa trundled across the floor and bumped into a large floral-patterned armchair in which sat a woman wearing a tall purple hat. A baby was bundled against her chest, and squashed on the seat beside her was a small wide-eyed child with a brush of ginger hair, a maroon jumper, and a runny nose. A thumb was firmly inserted in his mouth.

"Terribly sorry!" said Scorpius growing warm with embarrassment and nudging Albus to help him rolling the seat back to its correct position, where it had been hiding another two small children who were playing on the floor.

"Don't worry about it, dear," said the woman with a pleasant smile. Her tone changed and she shrieked towards the front of the bus. "Herbert Gotobed! Are you qualified to drive this thing?"

"Sorry, flower!" a cheerful voice answered from the other side of a high-backed fireside chair.

Albus nudged Scorpius in the ribs. "She looks like my mum," he breathed.

The woman balanced the baby against her shoulder as she manoeuvred a handkerchief between the other child's nose and thumb, then she turned her attention back to Albus and Scorpius. "Why aren't you boys at school?"

"Oh, erm. Sudden death in the family," said Scorpius. He pulled a long face and elbowed Albus to do the same. "Funeral."

"Oh what a shame. Anyone close?" The woman looked sympathetic. "You're in Slytherin, are you? My William will be starting next year. I expect he will be in Gryffindor though. Weasleys are always in Gryffindor." She poked the handkerchief at the child's nose again until he started to protest. "Are you cold?" she asked Scorpius, indicating his hood.

"He's been poorly," Albus informed her. "Haven't you, mate?"

Scorpius gave a deep, hacking, hollow cough that made Albus widen his eyes in alarm and caused the woman to edge a bit further away. "You do look rather pale," she said with concern.

Albus whispered loudly to Scorpius in excitement. "That must be my gran and uncle OW!" Scorpius's foot connected with his ankle.

The woman looked up, startled. "Gracious! Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," Albus assured her, rubbing his foot. "Just a touch of . . . um, gout."

"Gout! At your age!"

"Er . . . it . . . er, runs in the family."

"Oh, you poor thing!"

A noise behind him caught Scorpius's attention and he turned and peered over the back of the couch. The two children who had been playing behind the sofa appeared to be busy getting undressed and swapping clothes amid much suppressed giggling.

"Premium service for Weasley. Ottery St Catchpole coming up!" shouted Ernie.

"Oh my goodness!" said the woman. "Here, do you mind?" She thrust the swaddled baby into Albus's arms. "I've got to get the boys."

Albus cautiously jiggled the baby up and down while the woman stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled up. "William! Charles! Percy! We're nearly home. Come downstairs please!" She came back to Albus. "Thank you, dear." She took the baby from him. "She likes you, she's smiling, see!"

Three more children ranging in age from about ten down to six or so and with hair varying in colour from honey-gold to carrot-orange emerged at the bottom of the narrow stairs and scrambled untidily on to the bottom deck.

"Twins!" The two little boys emerged from behind the velvet sofa, and her face fell. "Oh, Merlin!" she wailed. "What have you done?" One of them was wearing his jumper back to front and the other was wearing his trousers on his head and had his legs thrust into the arms of his woolly sweater. Both of them were helpless with laughter.

"That is _not_ funny!" she scolded waving her wand and rearranging the garments. "Is that you, George? Or Fred, or – oh never mind! William will you look after Ronald, please? Off we go." She urged her brood out of the open door. Before she stepped off behind them, she turned back. "Goodbye!" she called to Albus and Scorpius. "I hope the funeral goes well."

"Tata, Molly!" the conductor waved and the door slammed shut. The bus jolted into movement again and he grabbed a strap that hung from the ceiling.

"Can't sit down here any longer, lads. These seats are reserved." He jabbed his thumb in an upward direction "Top deck." He handed them two tickets. "Seat numbers eight and nine, right at the back. Follow me." He turned and ran up the stairs. Albus and Scorpius followed more unsteadily, hanging on to the handrail as the bus shuddered and rocked from side to side.

As they passed through the middle deck Scorpius glanced through the front window and reflexively let out a little scream, ducked and shut his eyes as the bus headed directly for a gigantic truck; but when there was no impact, he opened them again feeling slightly foolish. A pair of elderly wizards were seated at a table playing chess, and a woman was reading a newspaper while a pink-haired little girl at her side was pulling faces into a small mirror. No one else seemed to have noticed anything amiss. He took a calming breath and continued up the narrow wooden stairs without looking at the windows again.

The top deck was empty except for a skinny woman sitting on a wooden rocking chair who was busy knitting something long, green and slightly furry. She did not acknowledge them as they passed.

. . .

The seat at the back was a solid wooden garden bench with ornate but rusty cast iron ends.

"Look, someone's left this." Albus picked up a rather dog-eared book. "Hey!" he called to the conductor, but Ernie had already gone.

"Oh, it's only an old book. Budge up." Scorpius made himself comfortable next to Albus. "What is it?"

Albus shrugged and passed it over. "That was so weird! Wasn't that weird? Fancy seeing my grandma like that! And holding my mum!"

"Yeah, that's pretty weird. But Molly's not your grandma yet. And it's not as dodgy as snogging your auntie."

Albus mimed sticking a finger down his throat and retching. "I suppose not."

"And gout!" Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "Whatever possessed you to say that?"

"It was the first thing that came into my head."

"Maybe the first thing that comes into your head isn't necessarily the best thing to actually say?"

"I know that," said Albus, "but I thought I glossed over it pretty well. Smooth, like."

Scorpius rolled his eyes at the grinning Albus and shook his head.

The bus rumbled on uneventfully for a while and the boys dozed, getting used to the violent and noisy stops and banging starts, the distant slamming of doors and the exuberant bellowing of greetings and goodbyes until it stopped again in an unusually sedate manner. Scorpius stretched and looked outside. They were on a country lane and from his vantage point he could see over the tops of the hedges across miles of bare ploughed fields. No houses or buildings were visible.

There was a disturbance downstairs. Ernie was complaining loudly, with evident annoyance. "This is highly irregular! The Knight Bus is a discreet and privileged service! It should not be subject to such unscheduled investigations!"

"These are irregular times," a harsh voice said from the stairs and a tall, thin, hard-looking black man in blue robes, with a shaved head and a big gold earring appeared. "All right everybody, stay in your seats. Just a quick security check."

"He looks like a pirate!" muttered Albus. A second man followed the piratical black man. Shorter but powerful, with close-cropped hair and wearing a long leather coat and heavy boots. But when the boys caught sight of the other side of the man's face, Albus gulped and Scorpius cried out in shock for it had been ruined by a recent, raw and terrible injury, and one eye was sewn shut. He limped over to them.

"Names, please."

"Erm, Arthur and Albert . . . Harbottle."

The scarred man waved a wand at them and mumbled something under his breath. Apparently satisfied, he grunted. "All right. Whatever your names really are, you're harmless enough. There's some dodgy characters around these days, lads," he said, without apparent irony. "Keep your wits about you. Constant vigilance!"

"Yes, sir!" squeaked Scorpius, and Albus vigorously nodded his agreement.

The two men disappeared downstairs; the scarred man cursing as his uneven gait made him awkward on the steps. After a few more moments, the bus jumped away with the now familiar _bang_.

"Look." Scorpius tugged at Albus's sleeve. A huge, scruffy dog was sniffing the corners at the front of the deck.

The thin, knitting woman noticed the animal at the same time. "Getoutofit!" she screeched. "You dirty mongrel! Scram! _Ernie!"_ She made a stabbing motion at the animal with a knitting needle. "Ernie!" she yelled again. "Unaccompanied dog on the bus!"

The conductor appeared at the top of the stairs. "What's goin' on, Mrs Figg?"

The woman pointed with her green, woolly thing. "There!"

"Oi!" Ernie said to the dog. "Can't you read?" With his rather short, stubby wand he indicated a notice fastened above one of the windows and the dog looked up and cocked its head with every appearance of reading.

 _No unaccompanied animals on the bus unless by prior arrangement,_ said the sign.

"See?" said Ernie. "Off you get." He shooed the dog towards the stairs and pulled at a brass handle fastened to the side wall.

The bus skidded to a halt. Albus fell off the bench and Scorpius found himself pressed up hard against the window. He looked down and in the second before the vehicle lurched and the outside world blurred again, he saw a young man with long hair standing beside the road, smirking and making a rude gesture.

The conductor helped Albus back into his seat. "Must 'a sneaked on wi' them two Aurors. Your stop's next but one. About twenty minutes." He went back downstairs.

Scorpius scrutinised the front cover of the shabby book. " _'Enquire Within Upon Everything'_ ," he read. " _(Wizarding Version) A Practical Handbook and Essential Compendium of Household Hints.'_ Riveting stuff." He started leafing through. "Look, someone's put a bit of newspaper in here for a bookmark."

"What have they bookmarked?" Albus yawned and cracked his knuckles.

"Ha! Love potion would you believe!"

Albus snorted. "Uncle Ron gave me a bottle of love potion for a back-to-school present. What he imagined I was going to do with it, Merlin only knows. I spilt it anyway. It went all over that stupid blanket my dad gave me. Fancy giving me a grotty old blanket. I ask you!"

"I'm sure he meant well."

Albus made a face. "Maybe. Go on then. Tell us how to make a love potion."

"You need, um, _Ashwinder eggs,"_ said Scorpius, _"(best quality available by owl order from the publisher),_ _peppermint flowers (fresh or dried), distilled mountain dew and pearl dust_. That's expensive stuff!"

"Little Whinging," called the conductor. "This is you, Mrs F!"

The thin woman packed her knitting away into a shopping bag and shuffled to the stairs.

Scorpius stared at the street outside. "They're all the same!" he remarked in surprise. He tapped the window. "Look! All those houses are exactly the same. Why do you think that is? Ouch!" He banged his head against the glass as the bus took off.

He rubbed his brow then looked back at _Enquire Within Upon Everything (Wizarding Version)_ and unfolded the yellowed paper which had been used to mark the love potion recipe. "This is quite interesting," he said, showing it to Albus. "It's a newspaper cutting. Part of an interview with Bathilda Bagshot. She lived – lives, I should say – in Godric's Hollow."

"What does it say?"

Scorpius cleared his throat. _"I arrive to interview Miss Bagshot, the gracious grand-dame –_ What's a grand dame? _– of wizarding history in her delightful Godric's Hollow cottage – the Bagshot family home for more than five hundred years. She greets me with immense charm, and offering me a cup of her special Pennyroyal tea, shows me into the tastefully furnished garden room of her village abode where her tortoiseshell cat provides a subtle counterpoint to the soft shades of beige and mushroom._

 _When we have exchanged pleasantries, I begin my interview by asking how closely she feels she identifies with the subjects of her research and how she establishes an emotional connection with them._

 _With a gentle smile, she indicates a stylish display cabinet and opens the unlocked door to show me the contents. I am breathless with awe. Among many other rare and wonderful curiosities are Norvel Twonk's Order of Merlin, An early draft of the Statute of Secrecy, several letters from Gellert Grindelwald to Albus Dumbledore, and even - she opens a carved box on the bottom shelf and shows me, resting on a red silk cushion - Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore's wands._

 _I express concern about the security of such precious objects but with a silvery laugh, she reassures me._

 _'I am,' she tinkles, 'dare I say it without appearing immodest? A well loved and respected member of the village. In well over a hundred years, I have never once suffered an intruder in my house, or even,' She waves an elegant hand towards the end of her garden, 'in my shed._ '"

Scorpius refolded the paper and put it back between the pages. "The rest of it has been cut off."

"Sounds as if she's tempting fate to me," said Albus. "What's on the other page?"

Scorpius turned to the back of the book. "It's a glossary of ingredients. One of them is underlined. _Tincture of Demiguise_."

"Never even heard of it."

"Me neither," agreed Scorpius.

"So what's it do, then?"

"It's, ah, _the principal component of Bundimun Extract which forms the active ingredient in standard proprietary household pesticides such as 'Budge's Bundimun Bane."_

"My grandma uses that," said Albus. "Swears by it."

Scorpius continued reading. _"It is particularly effective against doxys and for the disinfecting of cupboards prone to boggart infestation. Caution; Tincture of Demiguise reacts with pearl dust._ This bit here's been underlined too. _Should powdered pearl and Tincture of Demiguise come into contact with each other, a corrosive reaction will occur. If both of the substances are fresh, the reaction is swift, violent and potentially hazardous, however if one or both of the ingredients is rather old, the reaction is much slower, taking anything from a few hours to several days to take effect. It will cause irreversible damage to fabric, leather, wood and metal."_

Idly, he flicked back to the front of the book and blinked in confusion. "Now that's a funny thing," he said. "When are we again?"

"1981," said Albus. "You know that."

"Yeah," said Scorpius slowly. "That's what I thought but – this is quite an old book isn't it? Well-used, you might say."

"So what?"

"Look." Scorpius passed the book over, opened to the title page. "Look at the publication date."

 _"Includes a Practical Handbook of Basic Potions and Their Ingredients_ ," read Albus. " _First published 1865."_ He looked up at Scorpius. "What's wrong with that?"

"Keep going," said Scorpius. Albus looked back at the page. _"Revised and reprinted. Seventy-ninth edition, 2001."_ Wide-eyed, he stared at Scorpius who stared back. "Is it a misprint?"

Scorpius chewed his lip for a moment. "I dunno." He opened the book to the first bookmark. "Love potion." He touched the folded newspaper. "Bathilda Bagshot's policy on home security." He turned to the second bookmarked page. "And Tincture of Demiguise. Seems pretty random. I wonder if there's anything on this?"

He took the second piece of paper out and smoothed it with a finger as he studied the faded print.

His diaphragm clenched so hard he felt as if his stomach had turned inside out. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. "This is – this is the notice of Mother and Father's engagement. Father keeps it on him all the time. It's not a mistake. It's a message!"

He rubbed his eyes until his vision cleared and looked out of the bus window as the vehicle shuddered and halted beside a pretty church of warm stone, golden in the afternoon sun. The breeze whisked a carpet of brown and yellow leaves into drifts on the wide flagged path that led to the open church door.

The conductor's head appeared in the stairwell. "All right, lads! Here we are. Godric's Hollow!"

.

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End file.
